


i can see you wanna take my hand

by sekhmettt



Series: fate chose me and you [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Identity Reveal, Not Beta Read, don't ask why the tenses changed from the last part in the series because idk why either lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekhmettt/pseuds/sekhmettt
Summary: Elia's husband is a mystery to her, even after a few moons of marriage, yet even she knows that he wouldn't have a bastard. So just who is Jon Stark?
Relationships: Elia Martell/Ned Stark
Series: fate chose me and you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917352
Comments: 23
Kudos: 215
Collections: Southern Renaissance (Dorne Renaissance)





	i can see you wanna take my hand

In a strange way, her new husband reminds her of her old husband. They are physically nothing alike, but they both had that strange quiet demeanor. Yet, while Rhaegar was ever maudlin, Eddard is far more solemn. As he should be, given the state of his family.

Elia would have expected the war to end with Starks abound, while she and her children were the ones dead and buried. But then, she was a Stark now, wasn’t she? No longer a Princess, simply a Lady. But alive, and more importantly, so were her children.

If only she was Lady of a keep somewhere _warmer_ , she may even be happy with her life. The cold disagrees with her and the weakness in her bones reminds her of those awful days after Aegon’s birth. The maester assures her that she will grow accustomed, and brews her potions for the pain daily, yet she sees the looks these Northern lords give her. They cannot wait until she dies and they can put one of their daughters or sisters in their liege lord’s bed.

She survived the Red Keep. She swears she will survive this cold, if only to spite these men who think her weak. _Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken._ She had not broken yet and she will not do so now. She’d bring the sun to this dreary place, if it took all of her energy.

But for now, she never manages to sleep the night through. At night, she shivers under the covers by herself or wanders to the nursery to feed Aegon. She never spends the night with her husband. Beyond one fumbling experience on their wedding night, their marriage bed stays empty.

He is not very experienced, her husband. If she did not know of his unfortunate first wife, she would even think him a virgin, for all that his hands were clumsy, and his usually stoic face covered in a blush. But then, all said that honorable Eddard Stark never whored or took lovers. Even Ashara had whispered that it was the Wild Wolf who jumped into her bed, not the Quiet Wolf, those few years ago.

Which made it more than passing strange that he would have a bastard.

After many a night awake, Elia knows that the nursery is perhaps the warmest room in all of Winterfell, giving her only another reason to visit when sleep cannot be found. And good thing too, for she can here the cry of a babe as she approaches.

Cradling a squalling Aegon to her chest as she shushes him, she eyes his stepbrother, Jon Stark, just on the other side of the nursery. He’s a quiet baby, almost maudlin, never crying or kicking up a fuss. She cannot help but wonder if he is lonely, with only a wetnurse as a motherly hand, and her heart clenches at the thought. Laying her calmed boy down to sleep, she wanders over to Ned’s once bastard.

Even now, in the crib without a year to his life, Jon looks all Northern. He’s awake, wide gray eyes blinking up at her and she smiles, running a finger down his cheek. “Hello little wolf. What are you doing awake?” She knows many a woman would never treat her husband’s bastard this kindly, but what does she care if her stranger of a husband bedded another? She has her own children, though they are no bastards. And she can never give Ned a trueborn child, so why would she begrudge him this?

Humming an old Dornish melody, she picks the boy up and cradles him to her chest. As if he were aching for companionship, he instantly nestles into her bodice, one small hand reaching out to fist a tiny handful of her curls. Rocking him, she walks him round the nursery, hoping to lull him back to sleep as she easily did aegon. On her next turn, she catches sight of her husband, wide-eyed in the doorway.

“Hello husband.” A closer look and her brow furrows slightly. His eyes are red, hair mussed, and he looks quite tired, as if he were woken from his bed by a nightmare or tears, or even both.

Regardless, his voice is clear when he starts, “My lady…you don’t have to…”

“Don’t have to treat a child with kindness when he’s awake late in the night?” Elia cuts him off, but offers a soft smile to temper her words, “If I did it for Aegon

She expects that to be the end of it. Her reticent husband letting the subject drop and disappearing back to his own rooms, but he surprises her by entering the nursery.

“…Rhaenys woke.” Elia exhales sharply, already turning towards the door, even still holding Jon. Alas, in the family wing, she can hear when her daughter wakes screaming, imagining Amory Lorch and his knife coming to get her. But in the nursery, she is deaf to her cries. “It’s alright. I put her back to bed.” Elia freezes, returning her gaze to Ned. He seems almost embarrassed at her attention, shifting back a step, “She just needed a little reassurance and she fell back to sleep.” Of course, it was a tactic Elia had used many times: reminding Rhaenys that she survived, and that they were in her savior’s castle. Yet, she imagined it was even more powerful coming from the man himself.

That is one thing she can say about this husband of hers. He is kind to her children and to Jon, and far warmer with them than he ever seems to be with her. Tilting her head in thanks, she murmurs, “I apologize she woke you, my lord.”

“She didn’t wake me.” Ned’s gaze flits away from hers, like he feels guilty, “A nightmare. Of the Tower.” Ah yes, the Tower of Joy, where he had found his sister and returned only with her bones…and a bastard.

The words she says next would have never left her mouth if they were not here, in the strong, silent walls of Winterfell. She has no doubt even here there are spies, but it isn’t the Red Keep. And if she doesn’t speak now, she fears that she may never have the courage to broach the subject again. “He’s Lyanna’s son, isn’t he?” She doesn’t have to mention a father, for they both know only one man who had laid with his sister. The irony was rich. The boy her children would call stepbrother was truly a half-brother.

When he doesn’t answer, she looks up to him, surprised to see that for once she can actually read the man of ice, can see the fear in his eyes. What does he think she will do? Go shouting it from the walls? Send ravens throughout the Kingdoms? Why would she _ever_? Out of some spiteful or vicious revenge? It shows how little her new husband knows her.

Before he can speak, she puts Jon into his crib, slipping around it to reach up and place a hand over Ned’s mouth, murmuring, “A child cannot help its parents.” She doesn’t need him to speak the truth, for she can see it in his eyes now. The less is mentioned about it, the better.

Yet, it seems the man cannot help himself, for he mumbles the words against her hand, quiet enough that even she, pressed as close as she is, struggles to hear them, “Lyanna said they married. She said she ran away with him. The whole war was a _lie_. It was all for _naught_.” And oh, his eyes weren’t fearful anymore, they were _haunted_.

And oh, Elia doesn’t know her own feelings on this revelation just yet. That Rhaegar would marry another, as the Targaryens of old once did. But right now, she doesn’t focus on her own feelings. She looks to her husband, more concerned for the anguish on his face. It cannot be easy, to know how much violence and bloodshed and _death_ stemmed from one mistake.

 _Do you hate her?_ Elia wondered. _Do you hate yoru sister for what she brought down upon your family in the name of **love**? _She didn’t hate Lyanna. She didn’t even hate Rhaegar. She didn’t have it in her to hate, even now, even after everything. Perhaps if Rhaenys had died, perhaps if Ned had never arrived to save her son from the Mountain, perhaps then she’d know hatred, but that was a dark path she didn’t wish to trod down, not now.

“It doesn’t matter.” She murmurs to him, pausing only a moment before tentatively reaching up to pull his head down to her shoulder, cradling him as she might one of her babes. Her cold Northern husband is tense but wraps his arms around her when she holds him steadfast. “Right now, we’re all that matters. Us and the children. We’ll take care of them.” His grip tightens on her at that, and Elia hums, threading her fingers through his hair.

She forgets, at times, that this husband of hers is young, a few years younger than her. That he was a boy when he went off to war, a second son who got thrust into the role of leader, a man who lost all of his family to death or to the Wall. That perhaps he isn’t stoic and cold and a mystery, but instead simply shy and nervous and uncertain around her. It’s almost…sweet, the way he accepts her affection and clings to her so tightly.

And in his arms, she certainly feels warmer in this frozen land than she ever has before.

**Author's Note:**

> Me, literally a few hours ago: Idk if I’ll continue this.   
> Me, like five hours later: okay, so here’s the next part.
> 
> Lmao, oops. Guess I'm continuing, so hit me up with any ideas you have for oneshots in this series. At the moment, on the docket is: Oberyn visiting Winterfell, something set a bit earlier than this with Elia finding out about the betrothal, Ned and Rhaenys interactions (especially when she's having night terrors), perhaps something later down the line with Elia surprised to find she's pregnant. 
> 
> Anyway, if you have the money to spare, feel free to buy me a [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/sekhmettt) in this trying time. God knows I need it. If you do and have a fic request, let me know and I’ll definitely give it my best shot. <3


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